


With Fire and Blood

by TargaryenHeaven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran isn't mentioned because he's useless anyways, Dark!Dany, Dark!Jon, F/M, Jonerys, Smut, Targaryen Restoration, Yara kills Euron because she deserves it, dark!Jonerys, everyone burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenHeaven/pseuds/TargaryenHeaven
Summary: Jon is resurrected, but he is no longer the same man.When the Night King is defeated, Jon and Daenerys find out who betrayed their trust and they decide to play a game with them.





	With Fire and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna be quick here. It only took me about an hour to write this, meaning it's trash, but it's my trash so I love it. 
> 
> Jon tells Sansa and Arya the truth about his parentage, Sansa tells Tyrion, Tyrion tells Varys, Grey Worm finds Varys' letters and immediately tells Daenerys. But instead of executing him right away, Jon gives Dany a different idea.

_Wake up,_ he hears the voice say, _wake up, kill the boy_ , the voice yells, but he cannot see the face behind the orders, the darkness is consuming him and his entire being and for a split second, he feels like he's being punished in all seven Hells. He's walking towards the abyss and the endless night begins, he's searching for a sign, something to hold on to, but he's alone, he's dead and betrayed, and it enrages him, it starts a fire so hot he feels like the flames are coming out of his open wounds.

He's standing on that invisible edge, a thin line separating his body from eternal darkness. He doesn't want to cross the line, and he takes a step back, then another but he doesn't move, he _can't_ move, his mind and body are separated, whatever he was and whatever he knew is gone, then suddenly two hands grab him by the shoulders and before he can turn around, he's pushed into the abyss. 

It feels like an eternity but his eyes open on their own, his throat is as dry as his lungs, and when he takes his first breath, it feels different, it feels like a new life has been given to him, a beautiful gift, and an inelegant curse.

Ser Davos runs up to him like a servant, wrapping him in some old rags to save what's left of his dignity, Ghost howls like he's the one who was just brought back from the dead and Melisandre tries to get answers from him before he can even recall his own name. He pushes them all aside, he feels something inside him he's never felt before, something resembling an exquisite mix of rage and brutality, and it feels _good._

The boy within him was dead. That night a man was born, and he was made of fire and blood. 

\-----

"King in the North," hundreds of voices hoot in the court of Winterfell. His face is flushed, blood covers him like a mask, hiding the prominent veins of his forehead. Fury prevails over mercy and he holds Longclaw like his life again depends on it. He thinks the Bolton men no longer deserve benevolence, he tells them to bend the knee and when they do, the sharp Valyrian steel slices their throats like they were made of straw. Their warm blood is melting the first layer of the untouched snow and he feels his sister's gaze on him, but it's not her he's thinking about, it's the indisputable longing for a bloodbath. 

\-----

He stands in front of her door like a lost orphan boy and stares at the Targaryen sigil. He's remembering her face, the clarity of her blue eyes, the softness of her skin and how it felt against his scarred palms. It's her appearance that has him so lost and transfixed, the image of her curves hugged perfectly by the material of her dress has been imprinted in his mind, and when her long hair touches the curve below her back, he wonders how it would feel to grab it while he's mercilessly pounding her from behind. 

When he realizes that his time is being wasted on pointless thinking and dreaming, he brings himself to knock on her door. She opens them seconds later, as if she was some innocent maiden waiting for her lover to come to her at night. The intensity of his stare has her feeling her pulse between her thighs, she knows what he's about to do and she gives herself to him willingly. 

Every night they lay together in fresh sheets and he tells her she will come for him as many times as he wants, his words sounding like a soothing promise and she lets him test her limits before riding him like an untamed dragon. And he stays true to his words, her sheets in the morning are nothing but an expendable, damp mess.

As the waves are crashing against the hull of her flagship, he's fucking her into oblivion, because when he touches her, she's just as fiery as he is, the fire inside her is the same fire he feels burning inside him. And he begs her for a permission to burn together. 

\-----

Dany stands in front of him, speechless. She tries to find the right words to express her feelings, but she fails every time and she just... listens. He holds the message, ink still fresh and sticky, every word chosen carefully for the realm to read and use against her.

"Where is he now?" Jon asks her. The wrinkly piece of paper finds its way inside the hearth, and it burns, slowly tuning to ash. He wishes the secret could be just as easy to burn and hide forever.

"Grey Worm has him in one of the tents outside the walls," she says. She approaches him and grabs him by the leather of his gambeson, barely holding back whatever beast was ready to rip him to pieces. "Did I not tell you this would happen? Did I not tell you that secret is like a token of death? Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?"

"I trusted them, Dany!" Jon yells back, walking away from her. The table is the only support he has, he barely sees in front of him but he hears her breaths, he hears her raging behind him. "I don't know who I am anymore," he lowers his voice, looking down as if he's ashamed for even raising it in the first place. 

"You're my blood," she comes to him. Her hands find his face and she holds him like he's about to slip away from her grip and leave her forever. "You're Rhaegar's son. You're a Targaryen," she declares and suddenly the Iron Throne feels like a distant memory, a part of her thanking whatever gods were out there for sending him to her. 

His stomach turns at her words. A Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne. Lord Commander. King. Her nephew and her lover. _Her nephew and her lover._

"Aye, a Targaryen, Dany! I'm not Eddard Stark's bastard! Lyanna loved me, and Rhaegar loved her. The stories I grew up listening about a mad Targaryen who raped my aunt turned out to be made up lies! You're Rhaegar's sister, you're... You're my aunt."

"Does that bother you?" She asks him coyly. There's a spark in her eyes so bright, he can see himself inside her pupils, his own reflection staring back at him, and it feels like a battle between a Targaryen and a Stark. "Embrace it. Put on your Targaryen armor and I swear on my life I will stand by you forever. I'll burn all your enemies until there is no one left but men trembling with fear." 

"Our enemies," Jon corrects her. "Burn them, all of them. Who knows about Varys?"

"Grey Worm and two of my bloodriders. He's waiting for my permission to slit his throat as we speak... And to arrest Lord Tyrion and your sister." 

Jon shakes his head. "No, don't. Not today. Let them all live long enough to think they've won. When the first house rises against you, arrest them. The ravens he sent first have probably already reached the Riverlands. It doesn't matter if I'm the heir or not. I will give it up or it can be yours by conquest, I want you to have it because I know what you've been through to get it. Line them up when you get the crown. Let the last thing they see be our faces, because their treason was for nothing."

"Only if you swing the sword," she leans closer to his lips, closing the distance between them until they share the same breath. "Blood of my blood," she whispers against his mouth before taking his lower lip between her teeth. The feast in the great hall is nowhere near over, she can hear Tormund's voice clearly as if he's the only one celebrating, the sounds of copper cups clinking only gets louder with each toast and she knows soon enough everyone will be stuck in their own little fantasy world. But the thrill of it... The thrill of someone walking in on them, it makes her body shudder.

"Dany, they'll be looking for us," he tries to fight back his urges as her fingers play with the hem of his trousers. She smiles against his neck, tracing a wet line from his ear to his collarbone, drawing a low moan he's not sure she heard. He hopes she did. He's completely intoxicated with desire for her and her only.

"Let them," Dany tells him innocently. Before he can open his mouth to respond, she's on her knees before him, seeking his glare. The brown in his eyes is consumed entirely by black, looking down at her as she's lifting his gambeson and dragging her finely clipped nails across his lower abdomen. "Do you want me to stop?" She asks again, his throbbing cock coming to her eye level. He says nothing. "That's what I thought." 

She jerks his trousers down his muscular thighs, freeing him from the tight prison. He lets go of the table and wastes no time on the laces of his gambeson, instead he tears the material and throws it on the ground next to her, giving her full leverage over him. 

Dany takes her time, he can feel her breath against the base of his sex but she shows him no mercy. She places open mouthed, small kisses from the base to the blush tip, fighting back her own urge to swallow him whole and feel him tremble under her fingertips. 

Her black dress and red coat are brushing against the floor as if she was a common whore pleasuring a king, but her regal demeanor gives her the power to lash out and burn anyone who dares to wrong her, and deep down she hopes someone finds the courage to whisper an unseemly word behind her back. 

Jon succumbs to her seduction completely, he begs her to take him into her warm mouth and pleasure him, he brushes his fingertips against her cheeks and she smiles, sticking out her tongue to lick him. She looks up at him when she reaches the tip, her tongue swirls around the head before she takes it into her mouth, her perfect, soft lips wrap around him and his knees buck as the sudden rush of pleasure takes over him. 

And then she abandons him completely. The pleasure becomes pain when she kisses him under his navel. "I don't care if you're my nephew," she kisses his left hip. "My uncle," she licks its twin. "Or even my brother," Dany drags her tongue along the jutting vein of his cock. "You're mine. Say it." 

"Yours," he finds the strength to whisper. 

With a smug look on her face, she takes him into her mouth again, swallowing him whole until she feels him hit the back of her throat and she pulls away, keeping only half of him inside the warmth of her welcoming mouth. 

The flat of her tongue slides along his shaft with each bob of her head. She lowers her hand when she hears him moan and cups his balls gently, pushing him over the edge. Jon grabs her hair and pushes himself further inside, the beast inside him wakes and he's relentlessly thrusting into her mouth with rapid movements of his hips. 

She welcomes him happily, feeling his whole body tense.  
  
"Dany, I'm gonna come-"  
  
Three knocks on the door interrupt his wail of pleasure but it only provokes Dany to squeeze him tighter.

"Jon? Are you there? We need to talk to you," he hears Sansa say. 

Jon throws his head back as the muscles of his abdomen clench and he's flying, crossing the edge when the bubble bursts and the nerves in his body are suddenly on fire, burning, sending tiny signals of pleasure from his groin to the rest of his body. 

He looks down at Dany, watching her as she swallows each spurt of his seed and he knows she feels every twitch of his cock. 

"Jon?" Arya repeats her sister's words. "Are you there?"

"Just a- Just a moment," he shouts back. 

Dany faces him, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. He pulls up his trousers and grabs what's left of his gambeson, tying whatever was left to tye. 

"They don't know I know. Don't do anything stupid," Dany reminds him with a smirk. She waits for him to finish before opening the door, welcoming the Starks with her usual, majestic demeanor. 

"My Lord," she bids him goodbye, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb as his sisters watch.

\-----

The old ruins of the Dragon Pit are covered in snow in ash, the wind mixing them both into one as the smoke is rising higher and higher until the sun is no longer visible and the sky becomes a thin sheet of black.  
  
Before her on their knees are Tyrion Lannister, Varys, Euron Greyjoy and the northern lords who refused to fight for the living, their hands bound behind their backs. On her left is Sansa Stark on her knees, trembling and begging for Tyrion Lannister's life. On her right is Yara Greyjoy staring into her uncle's eyes, grinning at him whenever he tries to speak but the cloth on his mouth prevents him.

The northern lords pray to their gods for some kind of miracle, they pray for Jon Snow and his honor to save them but when he comes, Longclaw is already in his hand and the wolves from his breastplate are gone. It's a red attire he's wearing when he joins them and it matches the color of the blood spilling from his hands.

And he watches as they all begin to understand.  
  
"We made you a king!" One of them shouts.

"You made me a king because you couldn't take Winterfell back from the Boltons alone. Then you disobeyed my orders," Jon grits his teeth. He feels Daenerys sliding her hand under his fur cloak and pulling him in for a kiss. He licks her bottom lip, begging for a permission to feel her tongue but she pushes him, beaming with passion. Two of the Unsullied force Sansa to stand on her feet, to listen to the royal word like a lady she is. Daenerys' gift to her. 

"I am only gonna ask you once, Lord Tyrion. Do you deny telling Lord Varys the truth about Jon Snow's parentage?" 

"I don't," Tyrion responds, keeping his eyes down. Perhaps it's disgust he feels, perhaps it's fear keeping him from looking at her. 

"Lady Sansa, do you deny telling Lord Tyrion the secret your brother told you in the Godswood? In front of a Weirwood tree? I'm told that's quite a big deal."

"He is the heir to the Iron Throne," Sansa whispers as her tears fall down her cheeks. "You're a tyrant. You slaughtered a city!"

"You don't care about the Iron Throne," Jon fumes. "You wanted to be the queen, the queen of the North! When I left for Dragonstone I left Winterfell in your hands. When I came back I heard whispers, people claiming they should have chosen you. Maybe they should have. Did you think I would grant the North independence? And after telling you I don't want it, Lord Varys, what did you do?"

"I did what I thought was best for the realm," Varys speaks calmly.

"And was it worth it?" Daenerys asks flatly. No one responds. No one has an answer. "We could have had you executed after the Night King was defeated. We could have had you lined up in front of the gates of your home and execute you, but we didn't. We chose to wait and see how far were you willing to go with your little schemes and games. One Targaryen against the other, what did you think would happen? Did you expect a dance of dragons and a bloodbath?" Daenerys smiles. "Well, I suppose you got what you asked for, except... It's two Targaryens and one dragon. So I'm asking you again. Was it worth it?" 

Silence. Somewhere in the clouds of thick smoke Drogon screeches for his mother. The ground shakes when his claws touch the snow, he crawls closer to his mother, standing behind her as if he's her shadow. 

"Would you like the honor?" Dany asks Yara. 

"He destroyed your fleet. He killed your dragon," Yara protests. 

Dany looks everyone in the eyes for the last time. Her enemies, on their knees before her. "He hurt you more than he hurt me," Dany says and backs away.

Before Euron can react, his throat is slit and the only noise that comes out of his mouth is a guttural cry of anguish. Yara joins Dany and Jon and the Unsullied as Drogon is slowly crawling, taking their place. 

"I regret wasting my time and my armies on your lives. I want you to know that. And I want you to know it was House Targaryen demanding your death. Not Daenerys Targaryen. Not Jon Snow. House Targaryen. _Dracarys._ "

Jon watches as Euron's blood is spilling around him while Drogon's fire is consuming their enemies alive. Their screams become muffled clamors and it takes seconds for their bodies to turn to ash.  
  
And then everything makes sense again. He realizes why he was brought back from the dead.  
  
He was supposed to find her. She brings fire and he brings blood. She watches her enemies burn, he watches them bleed. And together they're impossible to defeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. That's canon now.


End file.
